My lover comes to me with a rose on her bosomThe moon's dancin' purpleAll through her black hairAnd a ladies-in-waiting she stands 'neath my windowAnd the sun will rise soonOn the false and the fair

She tells me she comes from my mother the mountainHer skin fits her tightlyAnd her lips do not lieShe silently slips from her throat a medallionSlowly she twirls itIn front of my eyes

I watch her, I love her, I long for to touch herThe satin she's wearin'Is shimmering blueOutside my window her ladies are sleepingMy dogs have gone huntingThe howling is through

So I reach for her hand and her eyes turns to poisonAnd her hair turns to splinters,And her flesh turns to brineShe leaps cross the room, she stands in the windowAnd screams that my first-bornWill surely be blind

She throws herself out to the black of the nightfallShe's parted her lipsBut she makes not a soundI fly down the stairway, and I run to the gardenNo trace of my true loveIs there to be found

So walk these hills lightly, and watch who you're lovin'By mother the mountainI swear that it's trueLove not a woman with hair black as midnightAnd her dress made of satinAll shimmering blue